FSE

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The hum of the sedan's engine was heard clearly by the occupants of the boarding house as the black car with tinted windows rolled to a stop at the end of the sidewalk, prompting all of those watching from the windows -all of them women of various species, colourations and nationalities, to rush to positions assigned to them by the women who had become their appointed leaders, preparing to make their stand against the visitors emerging from the car.

One of those such leaders, a red vixen named Tanya, squinted her eyes to get a better look at the four men outside, studying them. She was a slim-figured vixen that cut an appealing figure -a large part of why she had been brought to this 'boarding house turned exclusive club' -really a unofficial brothel once run by the Hong Kong Triad, funded and sponsored by their furson trafficking. Many of the other girls, including Tanya herself, were from all around the world, brought to Canada for one reason or another -either sold or taken from their families to settle debts, or simply because they hailed from places where they would not be missed.

Tanya herself was of Belarusian birth and was only twenty years old. She had been taken from her single father to pay off a debt he had owed the Hong Kong Triad - he had borrowed money to start a business, which had gone under before he could settle the debt, something that Tanya often suspected the Triad had been involved in. So, they had taken her, a girl of merely sixteen years and she had not seen her father since. She had been in 'service' to this brothel since then; four years, stealing any innocence she might have had left in her, spending her days barely clothed in lingerie that left little to the imagination, designed specifically to entice potential clients who came to the brothel for service.

But, it had been her to incite the revolt when the day had come; their handlers had been fixated on something on the news. A public trial, and the arrest of Yin Tsen - she did not know who the man was, and had not overheard much of the news anchor's explanation, but she understood enough to know that his incarceration distressed the handlers.

Only three had been on that night; she would never have had a greater opportunity for her freedom. She snuck into the kitchen to get a knife, had killed one of the men and mortally wounded the other two - they might have killed her had four other girls not seen what she was doing and jumped in to help her; these girls were newer additions to the brothel, and had not lost the hope of returning home to their families, giving them all the motive they needed.

The two handlers were now tied up in the basement of the boarding house - bargaining chips, Tanya had called them, for when the Triad came to collect their weekly cut of the brothel's profits. Now she held one of their guns in her hand - the only one in the whole building, and herself the only one brave enough to try despite barely having any idea how to use it. The other girls had been afraid to leave the house, fearing capture by the handlers when they rotated shifts - so they said, though it had been over a week since their 'rebellion' and no one had come for them; returning clients had been scared off by Tanya putting the gun in their faces - she had yet to actually fire it, but just the appearance of it had been enough.

She was certain the handlers had finally returned to collect their 'property', but as the four approached the building, she saw one of them tilt his head back, looking up at the windows of the second floor, and her eyes widened in a mix of confusion and horror.

"It's not them," Tanya whispered to one of the girls beside her, her voice reflecting her apprehension at the sight.

"What do you mean?" The girl asked her, though Tanya didn't offer an immediate reply.

The four men were Appenine wolves; European canids, Italian to be exact. But they were clearly armed - she could see them discreetly retrieving weapons from inside concealed holsters in their expensive suits. But they were not Triad -not even of one of the Asian races that were found in their ranks, but she had seen enough members of the Toronto police force to know they could not be the law either.

The Italian Mob, she thought darkly. Were they striking out at their rival's enterprises - was this a takeover? Is this why the handlers or the benefactors had never sent anyone to check on them? The pistol gripped between her hands was trembling now, barely letting her keep her grip on it; her heart rate was increasing, and nearly leapt into her throat when she heard one of the men trying the front door.

"De door's locked," one of them said, his accent thick - his English was clear, but the presence of another language was obvious.

"Dere's no way dey aven't seen oos-a here," another offered. "Tink de place is-a empty?"

"Lights are on oopstairs-a, and I know I saw movement as we drove oop," the third, the only one among them wearing a piece of headgear - a classic fedora, stated as his eyes surveyed the building.

Suddenly his gaze fixed on Tanya through the window which she watched him. Instinctively, she ducked behind the sill, but it was too late. He'd seen her -likely he had seen the glint of her eyes reflecting the porch light. His next words confirmed her fears. "Ey! Did you see that?" He asked. "Someone's in dere!"

The gunfire came within seconds. The girl who had been standing behind Tanya, now ducking behind the sill as she had been, let out a shriek of agony as bullets tore through the drywall, one of them burying itself in her abdomen. She fell back, clutching her belly where the bullet had entered. Tanya, desperate not to suffer the same fate, threw herself to the floor as the gunfire continued to pierce the wall. Her heart was beating so hard now she was sure it would explode out of her chest at any moment, and she found her paw shaking so much that she was barely keeping her grip on the gun she was holding.

The door burst inward, and the four men rushed in, weapons in hand. Tanya heard them looming over her as two rushed into the room, but no other shots were heard. "Oh 'ell-a, dese aren't the Chinks, dese de whores!"

"Not in ere for ten seconds and you already damaged one of dem-a," the other complained.

"Ey, tat was your bullet, not mine!"

"Boss's ain't gonna be 'appy if one of 'em dies. Call a doc and let's collect de rest o' dese hoes. And search de 'ouse; make sure none dose Chinks are 'iding in 'ere."

Tanya, remembering the gun in her hand, seized that moment to roll onto her back, gripping the weapon with both hands and taking aim at the closest of the gangsters. She squeezed the trigger, clenching her eyes as the gun clicked...

It did not fire.

Frantic, she pulled the trigger repeatedly but the gun still would not discharge. The gangsters were looking down at her, their pistols aimed on her but keeping their trigger fingers still. They shared a quizzical look, grinning before the one nearest to her reached out and seized the gun, wrestling it from her hand and dangling it over her mockingly.

"Safety catch is still on," he taunted her before pocketing the gun and kicking Tanya a painful kick to the face.

Tanya rolled across the floor several feet, her face on fire following the kick. She placed a paw over where the wolf's boot had connected, gritting her teeth at the stinging pain that followed. The two mobsters laughed heartily, throwing insults at her expense. She pushed herself up on her hands, only to feel a shoe on her back forcing her back down to the floor, pinning her.

"Stay put, girl. We're taking' over this place, so congratulations. You're now the property of the Families. Don't worry - we'll take good care of you all, so long as you can keep making us some money."

Tanya felt her heart sink at the announcement of their intentions. So close to regaining her freedom, only to find it was going to be stripped away again. More nights of humiliation, of pawning her body for money. She could bear it no longer. She would rather die, kicking and screaming, than suffer another night of humiliation and degradation like this.

Suddenly there was a shriek from one of the other rooms, and she felt the foot being lifted from her back as one of the mobsters asked, in an exasperated tone, what was happening. They stepped out of the room, and Tanya could hear shrieking from the room across the entry hall, followed by raised voices, shouting, and even a gunshot. It was the shot that finally spurred her to sit up, summoning her courage and forcing herself to stand. She sought something to use as a weapon, but nothing in the room appeared to have enough of a heft to it to cause any damage.

The girl who had been standing with her still lay clutching her wounded leg on the floor, sobbing from the pain. Tanya decided she would get to her as soon as they were safe, and daringly moved toward the entry hall, hoping to find something else to use to defend herself - even get the drop on one of the mobsters so she might seize one of their guns.

She stepped into the hall, only to retreat into the room as one of the mobsters went _flying_down the hall, nearly reaching the front door and holding his stomach in pain, curling into a fetal position and coughing hoarsely. Not seconds later, she heard someone hitting the wall -she turned her head, seeing only the body of another mobster - the one who had taken her pistol, sliding to the floor completely inert without a trace of his attacker.

Tanya crept over to the man, her eyes locating the handgun on the floor. Its magazine had been ejected, along with the chambered round, both of which lay on either side of the hallway. She had watched enough films to have a general idea of how to load the gun, and so she picked up the emptied firearm, grabbing the magazine and sliding it back into the weapon. She let out a yelp as a sharp pain coursed up her hand, instinctively pulling her hand back to see a bloody rash and torn fur on the curve between her thumb and index finger; the slider had caught her hand when it had returned to place upon receiving the magazine.

Adjusting her grip on the pistol, she pulled back the slider once, chambering a bullet, and turned her gaze on the mobster unconscious on the floor. She stepped closer, raising the pistol and taking aim at him. He was helpless, just as she had been when she had been brought here, to serve a debt owed by her father to men he should never have associated himself with in the first place.

With just a few pulls of a trigger, she could eliminate everyone who knew she was here, and disappear into the night street, never to be found again. But if even one of these thugs remained alive, she would never be free...

Her finger quivered, hovering over the trigger, her face contorting into a mask of rage as she tried to push her hesitation aside... Just one shot, and it would be over; the same for the rest. Just one shot...

A flash of light beside her made her jump, her hand instinctively clenching around the gun. Her arm was pulled upward sharply, and the pistol discharged into the ceiling. She struggled against her assailant, but their grip was like iron and would not relinquish her hand. She bared her teeth as she turned on them, only for all of her rage to fade away at the sight of them.

A caribou, fur as white as the Canadian snows, stood over her, standing nearly a full quarter meter above her height. He wore a red eyemask, with two holes cut into it to see through, eyes of deep gray -faded as one's eyes might be after passing from life, stared at her, stoic and unyielding. A red-clad hand gently brought her arm down, with a second reaching up to extract the pistol from her grasp, taking it from her before releasing her arm.

"Do not do something you can never take back," the man said to her, his voice so cold and firm she felt a shiver run up her back.

Tanya backed away from the caribou, suddenly realizing who it was she was looking at you. "The Ghost..." she said, her mouth barely working as it hung open in shock. "You're... real..."

"I am," he replied. "And you are safe, young lady. The police are already enroute to this location; they will help you."

"I..." Tanya stuttered. She wanted to thank him, or curse him - her mind seemed to be going in two directions at that moment...

But she never had the chance. Tanya heard the sirens approaching, and turned her head to look out the door to see two Toronto police cruisers pulling up to the curb outside the house, officers hastily exiting the vehicles with pistols drawn. She turned to face the Ghost again, but he was gone, with nary a trace to show he had ever been.

Tanya heard the police entering, hastily putting her hands behind her head even before they began barking commands, lowering herself to her knees at their direction and finally settling on a silent "Thank you..."

~~~~~

Warp had known about the underground brothel for some time now, but he had never been able to act against it, as prostitution in Canada was not technically illegal, leading him no grounds upon which to raid the place until now when he had seen the mob making their move. The Triad had run the business openly as an exclusive club, with a collection of young women for hire as escorts; so long as the clientele remained anonymous and nobody talked, nothing could be done about the trade.

Of course, now that the place was without management, the exposure of Tsen's assets had revealed most of the girls inside were victims of furson trafficking, taken from countries all around the world. Warp didn't know what could be done for the girls from here, but at least they were safe, under the watchful eye of the police. He watched with satisfaction as the four mobsters were hauled out by the Toronto peacekeepers and placed in the squad cars, and even smiled as he saw one of the police sharing his lunch with one of the younger, hungrier girls; a little light in the darkness of that had covered the lives of these poor young women.

Yet, he was troubled. There had been countless incidents in the past week alone - every night, he heard reports coming over the police scanner almost by the minute, and at the scenes where he stepped in, every location shared one common factor, including the boarding house below -they were all former Triad fronts. Tsen was in jail, the Triad chased from the city or arrested by the police, the police were shutting down their assets one after another.

"What in the hell is happening?" He asked aloud. "Why has everything suddenly gone to hell in this city? The Triad are gone..."

"Dispatch, dispatch, firefight in progress in ____," a report suddenly chimed over his radio. Warp lifted a finger to his ear, pressing it to listen better as there was background noise obscuring the officer's voice. "Car six-seven on scene, requesting immediate backup! We need a full tactical unit over here!"

"Copy, six-seven. Be advised, no units available; withdraw and do not engage," the dispatcher replied.

"_This whole area is going to go up in flames if we don't get someone out here fast!"_The officer protested, frantic.

Warp turned his gaze northward, in the direction the report indicated the firefight was taking place. He calculated the distance, visualizing a strategically sound rooftop that would overlook the area and then triggered his teleportation. After an instantaneous feeling of weightlessness, he reappeared on the roof of a strip mall, at the address the officer had indicated.

No sooner did he appear did he hear the automatic gunfire coming from below. He ran over to the ledge, peering over, and instinctively ducked back as a bullet ricocheted off the corner of the roof near where he had placed his hoof. Daringly, he stepped forward again, peering over, and saw the ensuing chaos below.

Opposite the roof where he stood, a courier service's garage stood as an apparent ground zero for the fight. Outside, using wooden pallets and the courier cube vans for cover, were eight men, all of Hispanic ethnicity, carrying pistols and long rifles. Across from them, three long cars with tinted windows formed a barricade, behind which over a dozen shooters of Japanese ethnicity returned fire on the Hispanic gang.

Behind the Hispanics, either as unfortunate bystanders or people they sought to protect, Warp could see four civilians. One man, middle-aged and dressed in a courier's smocks and cap, was on his back clutching a bleeding wound in his stomach. Behind a wall of boxes after him, four more civilians sat huddled, three young boys wearing warehouse aprons and a girl in a courier outfit identical to the downed man's.

Five civilians in the crossfire. At least twenty shooters, one side outnumbered and outgunned - even as he watched he saw one of the Hispanic gangsters fall. He had to act quickly. He began to run the calculations in his mind, deciding his first priority had to be getting the civilians. He could easily get the ones huddled behind the boxes, but he could only take two at a time - taking all four of them would drain him significantly.

Then there was the man on the floor - ammunition arched over him in a storm of lead, only a miracle of luck sparing him from the bullets that would surely end his life if he even tried to sit up. Warp could reach him, move him easily, but in the seconds it would take to pick him up, Warp could be hit by stray fire, or worse the man himself would take another bullet - judging by his present condition he would not survive another shot. Even if his armour held, the risk of the man taking another hit was too great.

He needed to divert then somehow... but how? He was alone - not that Whiptail could distract so many and live to tell about it. He checked his belt, going over his tools. Bolas, telescopic staff, mini telescope, zip cuffs, a disinfectant spray and gauze wrapping - nothing that could help him. He scoured his mind for a solution; every second he wasted was another second closer to those civilians deaths. He needed a distraction, but he had nothing!

Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air in front of him. He saw something fall out of the air into view, landing with the force of a wrecking ball in between the two sides of the firefight, sending up a cloud of dust and actually bringing an end to the shooting as the two gangs ducked for cover, possibly thinking their opposition had dropped a bomb.

But the figure that rose from the point of impact was no bomb. At first glance, it appeared to be a metal wolf, a body of gunmetal gray and a green glowing visor in the helmet in place of the eyes of a living counterpart Warp stared at the strange figure in bewilderment, unable to process just what he was seeing. A robot? Or, someone in a high-tech suit of armour? Could have been either, but who were they?

It was only then he realized there was more chatter on the police broadband. "...on site! Repeat, Ironsides is on site!"

Ironsides? Warp had heard that name before... but he had little time to consider it. Whoever Ironsides was, they had just given him the opening he needed; the firefighting had stopped, but the shock factor of the mechanical marvel's timely arrival would not last. He had to move now!

Without another second of debate, he pinpointed the location of the officer witnessing the scene as it unfolded, spotting his cruiser parked at the other end of the block. Warp teleported down to the wounded courier, appearing at his side and scooping him up in his arms like a child - thankfully the man was light and easy for him to lift. At first the man froze, staring in wide-eyed terror at Warp, but before he could voice any protest, Warp teleported again, picturing where he had seen the officer in his mind.

He heard the officer making another report just as he stood. "Confirmed sighting of the Ghost, repeat," he began. Warp teleported, and his repeat of the report was cut off. "The Ghost is -WHOA!" The officer, an avian, dropped his radio and backpedaled in surprise when the white and red clad caribou spontaneously appeared at his side in a flash of light, materializing seemingly from nowhere.

Warp saw the officer reaching for a weapon, but he spoke up hurriedly before the avian had any chance to draw one. "This man's been shot!" He exclaimed. The officer paused, seeing the wounded courier in the arms of the caribou, his hand hovering over his firearm but no longer poised to draw it. "Take him -carefully! Get pressure on that wound!"

To Warp's relief, the officer seemed to understand his intent, and reached for the man, helping Warp ease him to a sitting position against the car. "Tend to him - I will get the rest!"

"The rest?" The officer asked.

"There are four more in the warehouse!" Warp answered before he vanished in another flash of light, reappearing inside the warehouse this time.

He had to duck behind the wall beside the garage door as the firefight resumed in full. The two gangs were now focused on Ironsides, but in their attempts to hit the metal wolf, many shots still found their way into the building. Warp peered outside, seeing one of the Japanese shooters empty his weapon into their metal chest, but a beam shot out from Ironside's wrist, striking the man, who fell inert to the ground, followed two more of his partners as Ironsides engaged them, striking each one with similar beams.

Spotting the other bystanders, right where he had last seen them, Warp teleported over to them. He would have to time this just right, and hoped above all else the officer or Ironsides wouldn't take advantage of the exhaustion he would feel from what he was about to do.

The bystanders backed away in terror from him. He put up his hands, trying to show he was not a threat. "I'm here to get you out," he explained, in as gentle a voice as he could muster given he had to speak over the roar of gunfire and pinging of bullets to be heard. "I will teleport you all to safety."

"Can we trust him?" One of the men asked.

"He just saved Roger - I say yeah!" The second man answered.

"But the news said he's a vigilante!"

"It's go with him or get gunned down in here!" The girl stated.

Warp held out his arms to them, seeing their decision after the girl's remark was unanimous. "Hold onto my arms," he instructed them. They did so, each one grabbing a hand or wrist. Without a second of hesitation, Warp focused on the police cruiser again, and directed his destination to the ground where he had appeared before, before all five of them vanished in a brilliant flash of blue, spilling out into the firefight outside to blind the shooters.

The short but crucial distraction was all Ironsides needed to deliver more jolts from the stun weapon on their armour's wrist, rendering the last of the shooters incapacitated. With that, they went to work detaining them, dispensing zip cuffs from the armour and getting to work.

Meanwhile, as the civilians in Warp's care left his side, the red and white clad caribou staggered, collapsing heavily into the police cruiser as his exhaustion set in. The officer moved instinctive to his side, supporting him until the wooziness passed.

"You okay there?" The officer asked.

"Yes. It's taxing, moving that many people at once," he replied.

"Nevertheless, good thing you can," the officer returned, before putting a hand to the radio receiver on his shoulder. "Dispatch, come in," he started, moving away to keep the conversation private.

Warp took a moment to catch his breath, barely acknowledging the four civilians as they thanked him, managing only a nod of acknowledgement to them in response to their thanks. But as he managed to reorient himself, he could hear the heavy footfalls of Ironsides approaching, and turned to regard the metal clad super. He couldn't be sure, but he was certain the armoured hero was looking straight at him. He also noted that the metal wolf was much taller than himself, easily dwarfing him by a full foot in height.

Warp turned to face them, backing away from the cruiser as the metal wolf drew closer. "Ghost of Toronto, AKA the Warp," he - at least Warp assumed it was a 'he'; the voice sounded male. "There is a warrant for your arrest, issued by the Bureau of Superheroes. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

"Under what charge?"

"Aside from vigilantism?" Ironsides asked, their electronic voice still managing to carry the hint of rhetoric. "Reckless endangerment, unlawful entry of private property, suspected of consorting withwanted international criminal, designation Carlos Chang, AKA 'Chu-Ko-Nu'; need I go on?"

"I could debate all of those concerns with you," Warp began, taking in a deep breath and feeling some strength returning to his body. "But I must be going."

_"Oh no you don't!"_Ironsides growled, lifting their arm and taking aim with their stunner as they knew what was about to happen, but they were too slow; within the blink of an eye and a flash of blue light, the Warp was gone...

Inside the armour, Caroline Montreaux - the 'true face' behind the iron mask, smiled to herself as the Caribou warped out. 'Well, I 'officially' tried,' she thought. 'Why is Canada so committed to non-cooperation with the unregistered types? This one behaves himself pretty well, all things considered. So, Mighty Moose better not get on my case about-'

Her thoughts were interrupted as her heads-up display showed an incoming transmission and displayed a name to identify the caller. "Speak of the devil," she muttered aloud. "Accept call."

"Ironsides here."

Hearing her call answered, Mighty Moose slowed her flight, reducing the wind currents rushing around her so as not to contaminate the transmission with white noise. "I received the report of the firefight you responded to," Mighty Moose said. "Are you alright?"

"Affirmative, chief. The parties involved have been detained, and I am resuming my patrol of the city skies. You won't believe who I ran into here, though."

"I've already heard," Mighty Moose returned. "You can confirm it was him?"

"White furred caribou with gray eyes, dressed like the Canadian flag - just like you? Yep, definitely him; I think he stepped in on that firefight I responded to. But, he bolted before I could get him."

Mighty Moose huffed. "It isn't surprising; it's hard to hold down a teleporter," she said. "What about the bystanders?"

"One of the civilians was wounded, but he's alive, and so are the rest. The Warp pulled all of them out of danger while the thugs were focused on me," explained Ironsides. "The Yakuza seemed pretty interested in this place; clearly the Hispanics got here first, but they didn't care."

"Good thing you got there to deal with them," said Mighty Moose in a complimentary tone. She was about to say more, when something caught her eye off to her right, prompting her to turn her head as she noticed a flash of blue on the roof of a building below her.

"_So... you want me to keep chasing Warp? If I fly over the city, maybe I'll find him,"_offered Ironsides.

Mighty Moose hesitated to answer the metal-clad heroine for only a moment. "I don't think that'll be necessary," she said. "Resume patrol for now. Mighty Moose out."

~~~~~

Warp sank to his knees as he reappeared, his breath lost once again. He caught himself on his hands before he could fall onto his belly, taking in breaths in laboured gasps as he tried to regain his strength.

"Too soon... too many," he gasped as he tried to collect himself. "Damn it... what is happening? Who was that gang back there attacking that warehouse and why were they there, fighting the Yakuza?" he thought about the address for a moment, realizing it sounded familiar to him. "That place was another Triad front..."

He sat down on the edge of the roof, staring out at the city. Not seconds after, his radio was abuzz with chatter again, this time a detailing a firefight at the docks, followed by a drive-by in Chinatown, and a fire in the industrial park, with police on scene engaged by a local gang.

Frustrated, he shut off his radio, and had to restrain himself not to hurl it out into the open air. What was happening? He had destroyed the Triad - he had driven them out of Toronto, Yin Tsen was in prison, awaiting charge and deportation back to Hong Kong. Yet it seemed like everywhere he had once controlled had suddenly erupted into chaos...

"This isn't right... crime shouldn't be going up with the Triad gone! I don't understand..."

"Nor would you," a French-accented voice spoke behind him.

His fur stood up at the sound of the voice. He snapped to his hooves, whirling around and facing the owner of the voice, and gaped as he saw who it was. She was a figure as imposing as her reputation, standing nearly half a foot taller than Warp, with a powerful body, wavy blond hair and eyes of sharp blue. Her outfit was similar to Warp's in style, dominated by a white leotard bearing the colourations of the Canadian flag around her midriff, and she wore complimenting red gloves, boots and a mask around her eyes hiding some of her more distinguishing characteristics.

He had never met the woman in person, but there were few in the whole of Canada who would not recognize Mighty Moose; the only person who's name was more known than hers was the Prime Minister himself. She was director of Canada's branch of the Bureau of Superheroes, and reputed as one of the strongest supers in all of North America, if the gossip on the internet were to be believed. Seeing her in person, though, Warp could tell she might live up to her reputation, for he knew just by looking at her that she was powerful...

Warp fought to hold his composure, momentarily debating whether or not to flee at that second. His encounter with Ironsides still fresh in his mind, he had a fairly good guess as to where this conversation was sure to end, meeting the female's gaze as her broad boots hovered mere inches above the roof, kept aloft by her power of flight, her hair waving in the wind along with Warp's cape as they held each other's gaze, both momentarily sizing the other up before he spoke.

"You have the advantage, ma'am," he said, flatly. "You have caught me off my guard, and you seem to have a better idea of what is happening in this city than I do now."

"That I do," Mighty Moose replied evenly, her arms crossed across her broad chest. "As well as who is responsible for it all. Shall I call him Warp, or the Ghost of Toronto?"

Warp's eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking me?" He asked. "Hardly fitting someone of your station. And what do you mean the one responsible?"

She unfolded one of her arms, and pointed squarely at Warp, her eyes narrowing. "Everything happening in this city tonight, and for nights to come, is a direct result of your actions, Warp."

Warp's suspicion turned to scorn, his brow furrowing sharply. "That's a lie," he stated. "I did not start any of this."

"Not knowingly," she replied, lifting the same hand in a gesture of calm. "Few who ever face the situation you are in now ever intended for anarchy to be the result, and I have a sense that you are one whose intentions were benign, if misguided."

"Misguided?!" Warp snapped, feeling a surge of anger well up within him. "I'm trying to end organized crime in this city! Trying to break the stranglehold the foreign underworld has on my home! How can that be misguided?"

Mighty Moose sighed. "Tell me this, Warp... are you familiar with the term 'Power Vacuum'?"

Warp's expression softened. "Yes. It's when a large contributor in an equally large system is removed suddenly, and-" he paused, choking on his words, as the realization dawned on him.

The boarding house...

The courier...

Former fronts of the Hong Kong Triad... a power no longer present in the city.

He turned away from Mighty Moose then, looking out over the city below, seeing the brilliant lights rising up like fires from the streets. "You don't mean..." he whispered, not sure his words were heard.

Apparently they were, as Mighty Moose appeared beside him, still afloat, her arms still crossed, but her expression had softened. "I'm afraid I do, Warp," she said. "Did you really think the Toronto Police haven't had a way to bring down the Triad all this time? Do you really believe that the system is so broken it couldn't end the syndicates on its own?"

"Then why didn't they?!" Warp demanded, turning on her sharply.

"Because of what is happening now," replied Mighty Moose, surprisingly not taking offense to his outburst. "Because now that the Triad are gone, all of those who competed with them want what they left behind and they will kill to get it. The city is now becoming a battleground of organized crime, and that is why myself and several other heroes have been called here. That is why you encountered Ironsides this night, and how you will encounter others. We are here, called upon by the people of Toronto, to quell the violence before it gets out of control."

"If this was always a risk, why did the police act now? If they had enough to bring down the Triad without me then why didn't they shelve it like the rest, like they did when-" he paused, withholding his words as he realized he had been about to reveal information about himself.

"They do not shelve it, Warp," Mighty Moose scolded him. "But they could not do nothing when the prosecutor who brought down Yin Tsen took action; you gave them so much to act on that for the police to do nothing would cause citizens to lose faith in the system. People would riot, criminals currently in prison could be released, and powers like the Mafia would be stronger than ever, as without the backing of the public, there'd be no one to stand against them."

"So I was to do nothing?" Warp asked. "To just watch as my city died from the inside out?"

"No. But there was always another way," returned Mighty Moose. "You could have joined the Bureau, resisted them along with the rest of us. You have already proven the Triad can fall - organized crime can be ended, but it isn't something you can rush or you will cause things to escalate, as you have done. However, you _can_still do something about it."

She uncurled her arms, and held out a hand as though offering to let him take it. "I have orders to bring you in... but you could be an asset to the Bureau. I could convince the courts to repeal your sentence - you may still have to face charges but you will remain a free man, fighting the good fight. Register, join up with the Bureau; become a sanctioned hero, and share your strategies with us. We can put a stop to this, together."

Warp looked down at her hand, hearing her words and weighing the options in his mind. Somewhere, at the back of his thoughts, he felt tempted... he wanted to accept her offer. But still, another part of his mind told him that the time was not right; that it was still too early to commit himself to such an ideal.

He stepped back from her, lowering his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't do that... not yet." He turned from her then, staring out to the city once more, walking along the roof to a corner overlooking the street. "My methods depend on my not following the rules... it is by that measure I brought down the Triad. I can change the endgame, but if I change my methods now, then I can't fix my mistake. I started this; I am_responsible, just like you said. Therefore, _I must find a way to stop it, to fix my mistake."

He heard Mighty Moose let out a sigh, and could almost feel her gaze burning into his back. "You will not only face criminals out there, Warp," she said. "The orders to hunt you came from an authority higher than even me. I cannot call them off, even if I saw fit to. They will find you."

He turned back to her then, his gray eyes bearing an inner fire they had not held moments before; a resolve Mighty Moose had seen in the eyes of many heroes. Many who had moved on to become legends of the world today, and on his lips she saw the faintest hint of a smirk creased the corner of his mouth.

"They will try."

With nothing more than a light hop, Warp launched himself over the edge of the roof, disappearing behind the wall. Mighty Moose shot across the rooftop and peered over, intent on catching him, but her eyes caught only a flash of blue light fading from existence, with nary a trace left of the red and white caribou to be found.

Her fingers clenched the upraised edges of the roof, face contorting in a scowl as she raised her head to peer across the skyline of Toronto. The sides were drawn now, she knew. The law, versus the criminals, with a third party loyal to neither ready to strike from the gray, dodging the light and attacking the shadow before retreating to that place between once again.

The Toronto City War had now begun...